


The Suicide of a Genius

by takemetofandomrehab



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetofandomrehab/pseuds/takemetofandomrehab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is barely holding on anymore and wishes he could be with his best friend again, no matter the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Suicide of a Genius

Alone and afraid, John sat at the top of his bed, leaning into the corner of the wall, cold sweat covering his face and chest. The dreams never stopped. Sometimes they were flashes, other times they replayed his life, but they all ended with fire. Never ending fire. It burnt like fire and ice together, tearing him up bit by bit, and all the while he heard the laugh of the man who lied. The man who ultimately took his best friend, his true friend, his only friend, away from him. He couldn't do it anymore. He wanted his friend back, despite all the little annoying things he did. He wouldn't be Sherlock without them. But he knew deep down this would never happen. He knew it would only lead to bad things. What's dead should stay dead. The Winchesters had told him that a long time ago when they worked a case together. But Sherlock also knew the dangers. If he brought him back, Sherlock wouldn't do anything stupid would he? But then it was Sherlock. He was mad, crazy and clever all at the same time. Sherlock was just a mad man, in a good sense of course, but that didn't stop him from being dangerous. But Sherlock knew the boundaries. But he couldn't do it. What about all the risks. He was thinking the impossible but Sherlock was impossible. He needed him by his side, solving crimes together, forgetting his pants and blogging about it.  
"But what's dead should stay dead." he whispered into the cold air of his bedroom.  
"That's very true John." said a voice in the corner of the room. John lifted his head to the familiar voice, tears in his eyes.  
"But he cant be dead Cas! He just cant! Surely he isn't dead? He was a mad genius after all Cas. Please tell me he's still alive, please?" he cried, looking down into his hands which had started to shake. Holding on was becoming harder each day, the string thinner and weaker. He couldn't cope anymore, he just couldn't. No one had ever understood him like Sherlock had and all he needed now was his friend. His only friend.

John looked up into the space where Cas had stood. He was no longer there. Of course he wouldn't be. The only human he cared about was Dean really, they shared a 'profound bond', just like him and Sherlock had.

He stared into the emptiness, cold and afraid, cold and alone. He had no friends now. He had no one to protect him and remembering the words of his friend, he slowly moved from the corner, shaking with each slight movement although he could not feel the cold anymore. He opened his bedside table drawer, and took out the tablets his psychiatrist had prescribed. A feeling of warmth began to spread from his heart for the first time in months.  
"Maybe you were right Sherlock," he said looking up,"Maybe you can only trust yourself, but I was right when I said friends protect each other. But how can we do that when we are so far apart eh?" he laughed slightly, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. He looked down at the bottle in his hand, and with shaking hands unscrewed the top off.  
"To the sociopath genius and his mad blogger." he cried, raising his bottle of pills like a glass of champagne to a toast.  
"To a never ending friendship." he whispered softly, raising the pills to his mouth, before swallowing them like there was nothing to it…

An hour later, the gentle flapping of wings could be heard in Johns room. Cas stood where he once was before, only this time he had brought a companion with him. Tall and thin in stature, this man was oddly handsome with his pale skin and dark curls. He looked across the room to where John lay.

"Oh John, no. Please no." he turned to Cas, "Heal him, now or so help me I'll…"  
"You'll what? Kill me? Even if you could you know the Winchesters would find you Sherlock. What's dead should stay dead, even John knew that." and with that, Cas disappeared.

Sherlock walked over towards the bed. He took the empty bottle and put it on the side before taking Johns hand in his.  
"You know, I never quite understood why they called you a bachelor until I realised you'd won my heart, but of course I was never going to admit that." he said, laughing slightly. "And maybe I was a fake genius, because I never saw this coming, ever. I thought you would be safe from all harm, but alas, not even I can protect you from yourself. I never knew being a genius was such a burden until now. Rest well my dear friend, and maybe one day we'll see each other soon."

Sherlock got up and walked to the door. He stood there for a moment, and for the first time in his life he looked back. Turning away, he walked out into the streets, covered by the dark. He looked up at the sky and prayed to Cas.  
"Keep him safe for me will you. Make sure he's happy up there…please?" he whispered, before walking away, not looking back this time.

But if he had only taken a moment to follow his heart and look back, he would of seen John standing next to the window, Cas' hand on his shoulder, alive and okay, wishing with all his might for Sherlock to come back home.


End file.
